


Unusual Subjects to Take Up in Therapy

by sparklight



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Shattered Glass
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-15
Updated: 2015-04-06
Packaged: 2018-03-01 16:29:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2779952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparklight/pseuds/sparklight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Megatron expresses concern over how Cliffjumper is handling his new situation and Cliffjumper insists he's doing FINE, he still ends up talking to Bombshell about alternates, the differences between his native reality and this one (and the people in it) and, just a little, about how he's dealing with it.</p><p>At first reluctantly, and later less so.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Establishing Trust

"Cliffjumper? Do you have a moment?" Megatron asked, only pausing for a brief moment at Cliffjumper's jerk as he whirled around and partway reached for something (a weapon) before he let his hand drop to his side and look up at Megatron. It wouldn't do to aim more attention to the startled reaction than what was necessary - the mech had enough to deal with.

Which was why he was _here_.

"Uhh... I guess?" Shifting on his feet, crossing his arms over his chestplates and then uncrossing them again, Cliffjumper finally straightened up and met his optics without flinching. Instead, it was more like _challenging_ , really, considering the way his chin was thrust out. Since he was unsure (for now) whether it was Cliffjumper's usual attitude or because he felt unsettled, however, it was hard to tell if it actually _was_ a challenge, however needless. He couldn't really begrudge Cliffjumper _either_ of those reasons, though it was somewhat... confusing, that he was so _confrontational_.

Aggressive worked too, but it was what he usually expected of the an Autobot. The confusion regarding his behaviour was rather since he claimed to be from a reality where things were _opposite_ from how they were here. Which was also why he was here.

"While it's obvious we don't need Shockwave's expertise right now, I would like to suggest that you avail yourself of Bombshell's presence---" 

"What?! He's---" Cliffjumper's outburst got cut off by the minibot himself, and Megatron resettled his smile - though with a shade more concern at the wild light in Cliffjumper's optics before he dimmed them - and waited for him to continue, " _why_?! I mean... he's---" shaking his helm, Cliffjumper frowned up at Megatron with his optics narrowed in accusation.

That wasn't the _only_ thing bleeding through however, if his field was anything to go by. Even if Cliffjumper had caught the field quickly and tucked it close to himself. Megatron spread his hands out, keeping his voice even and low; a little more than usual, even, since it seemed Cliffjumper needed it at the moment.

Was Bombshell so terrible in his world..?

"Your situation isn't just _singular_ , Cliffjumper, but probably taxing as well. Bombshell is a psychologist looking to the Decepticons' mental health, and while he obviously doesn't share your _experience_ , he might be able to help you... settle in more easily."

Cliffjumper stared up at Megatron, but when his expression didn't change, the narrow suspicion transformed into a roll of his optics and a huff as the tension shifted in his frame.

"I'm _fine_. But, uh... thanks... um, for the concern though," Cliffjumper said, shaking his helm. He looked as if he couldn't decide whether Megatron's concern or the fact that Bombshell was a psychologist was the most weirdest thing. 

Megatron waved him off and hoped Cliffjumper would change his mind. Not because he couldn't handle it; it was pretty clear Cliffjumper was doing a surprisingly impressive job of handling his situation so far, but it was only the second day he was here... and it was such an extraordinary situation.

But he wouldn't _push_.

***

Staring at the rod in front of him, Cliffjumper scowled at it. He'd been here four days now, three since Megatron's... suggestion.

Meeting _Bombshell_?

_Alone_?

Even if the mech was someone else entirely, that thought set warning alarm shrieking through him, and he didn't really see the need to _fight it_. It wasn't like he _needed_ to talk to psychologists, even less a psychologist that was _Bombshell_. It was just---

"May I sit?"

"Gah--!" Jerking upright from where he'd been leaning over the table and twirling the rod around, Cliffjumper _almost_ hefted the rod at the mech out of pure reflex. Not because he knew who it was, but because he _didn't_... Optics wide as he met the calm, blue glow of Bombshell's optics, Cliffjumper stared. 

What were the fragging _odds_?

Well, if Bombshell knew Megatron had asked him... or he might just have searched him out on his own out of... _concern_ , probably. The thought sounded utterly ridiculous, but Cliffjumper, as far as he'd come to know these strange Decepticons, knew that was most probably it. 

With a start, he realised Bombshell was still waiting, standing quietly beside the table the mini chosen to occupy, as far in the back as possible when Sideswipe hadn't been able to come with him to refuel this time.

"... Uh... Er. Sure?" _Refusing_ to wince at the obvious hesitation in the reply, Cliffjumper grabbed his rod more firmly and straightened up as Bombshell murmured a quiet 'much obliged' and settled down in a chair he pulled over from the nearest table, instead of taking a spot on the bench beside Cliffjumper.

He wouldn't admit to it, but he was relieved Bombshell hadn't sat down beside him... and then realised the mech had probably known, or at least _assumed_ he'd prefer it like that and was then _annoyed_ , but slag if that wasn't silly. Who the frag got _annoyed_ when people showed you some courtesy?

... He did, apparently.

Grunting, Cliffjumper went to take a swallow of his energon just to be able to avoid the deep azure optics a bit longer, but he'd barely got his lips wet before he grimaced and put the rod back down on the table. Frowning as he licked the faint wetness, and the bloom of the oddly astringent, almost citrusy (well, as far as he could determine) after taste away, Cliffjumper felt a flare of frustration.

Not even the slagging _energon_ tasted the same!

"It doesn't taste as it should?" the quiet rumble from beside him had Cliffjumper twitching and gripping the rod again, but at least he turned to face Bombshell more calmly this time, optics narrowing.

"How'd ya know?" As if his grimace wouldn't be an easy tell...

Bombshell shook his helm, the light skittering off the red and black metal, though it burnished the gold helmet to a more vibrant sheen as he laced his fingers together.

"You've been nursing a single rod for over a cycle, and every time you've taken a sip, you stop halfway through. I also, and I apologise for that, asked Sideswipe how you've been settling in, and he said you haven't been refuelling as much as he thinks you ought to, for a mech your size," tilting his helm, Bombshell hummed quietly, "you don't seem to be the type to starve yourself _knowingly_ , so it seems more logical to assume it's the energon itself."

Glancing from Bombshell to rod, Cliffjumper scowled. He didn't _want_ to say anything to this mech, but there really was no reason _not_ to. He'd said it tasted 'weirdly organic' to Sideswipe when he'd had his first rod and almost hadn't been able to make himself take a second drink of it, but he hadn't gone further into it than that.

And where did Sideswipe get off telling other people who just got it in their processors to ask (out of concern, yes, but _still_!) about him!

"... It's got an after taste," he finally muttered, fingering the length of the rod, "not what I'm used to." There. That should be good enough and maybe now Bombshell would _leave_. Or at least not say anything else, because while he knew he _shouldn't be_ , he was still weirded out by sitting next to Bombshell.

... Not like he hadn't been weirded out since the moment he stepped (fell) through the space bridge and Rodimus appeared, but it just kept coming.

"Hmm. Do you think you'll---"

"I'm _fine_! I just need to get used to it! Ain't a problem at all," Cliffjumper snapped, jerking his helm around to stare at Bombshell before he looked away again, torn between frustration over letting it get to him - _all_ of it - and just a tiny, vague flicker of guilt at snapping at the mech.

Hardly enough to _apologise_ for it, but still. Bombshell - _this_ Bombshell - didn't really deserve his well-honed temper and twitchy state of mind, now did he? _Almost_ scrubbing a hand over his faceplate, Cliffjumper muffled a groan and then simply reset his vocaliser when that wasn't enough to stop the noise from coming out.

"May I ask a question?"

Twitching, hand snapping closed about the rod, Cliffjumper had to consciously relax his hold on the container and loosen up his shoulders. It still didn't stop him from squinting at the mech.

"What for?" He probably should've done a better job about controlling his tone, but Cliffjumper, despite the awareness of that, couldn't find it in himself to care at the moment. Everything was just piling on, and he was _trying_ , really, he was, but it was _hard_ to keep up and _deal_ with all the strangeness.

All the _wrongness_.

Bombshell looked at him quietly for a moment, his blue optics dim - and kind. Patient.

"Cliffjumper, we're in public. You're sitting in an area where people will be passing through at nearly all times of the day. You might not trust them, but if they saw something off, the great majority of them wouldn't hesitate to intervene. If you really do not wish to talk to me, I can leave, but otherwise... someone will be able to see what's going on, if not _hear us_ ," Bombshell said quietly, his voice a muted, resonant rumble - calm and patient like his optics, soothing without being _annoying_ or even threatening, even to Cliffjumper who was feeling on edge with the mech this close.

Optics darting around the rec room, Cliffjumper was pretty sure he knew _why_ Bombshell had chosen _now_ to approach him, but it didn't set him on edge - well, any more than he _already_ was, from _everything_. The fact that Bombshell had basically admitted to approaching him where they would be seen was actually pretty reassuring, as the mech didn't try to hide it.

Taking an off-cycle, deeper than normal vent, Cliffjumper straightened up and leaned back against the padded wall behind him.

"... Fine. What'd you wanna ask about?"

If it was anything about _him_ he was telling the mech to go frag himself, though. He wasn't going to be talking about _that_ , not to this mech. Regardless (especially?) of the fact that he was a psychologist and that maybe, just _maybe_ he wasn't dealing with all this as well as he tried to project – both for everybody else and himself.

"My alternate, actually. Who is he?"

Optics flickering, Cliffjumper stared at Bombshell. He hadn't expected _that_. Not even Sideswipe, as the one he'd been following around pretty much like 'ugly on a terrorcon' as he'd said he would, had asked anything about his alternate, beyond the scattered and unintentional mentions Cliffjumper himself had made.

"Uh... really?" It was strange, because now that he was faced with the question of someone actually asking about their own alternate, Cliffjumper felt weirdly... hesitant. Bombshell wouldn't _like it_ , after all. The mech only tilted his helm though, optics bending in a small smile.

"Really. I'm curious. You've been transplanted here and forced to deal with not just the changed personalities of those who would be your friends and allies, but your enemies as well - I might not be able to know the situation first hand, but it seems somewhat fair I get knowledgeable about the conduct of my alternate."

Convoluted as the wording was, it seemed to be _sincere_. Cliffjumper had for a moment thought Bombshell would turn it back on _Cliffjumper_ and how he was handling this whole slagging _stupid_ thing, but he didn't. That was... probably more reassuring than it should be - or rather, just as reassuring as it was _intended_ to be, but since Bombshell still seemed utterly sincere in his wish to know about his alternate...

"He was a creepy slagger," looking up from staring at the rod, Cliffjumper shook his helm, even if it didn't look like Bombshell had been about to _say_ anything, "and I don't mean 'cause he was a slaggin' Decepticreep... well, _much_. In _addition_ , I guess. He could fire these little bullets or whatever."

Grimacing and barely able to keep down the shudder, Cliffjumper tapped the rod against the table and then took a proper swallow of it, distracted enough the after taste _almost_ didn't register.

"Cerebro-shells. They burrow right into your rustin' processor and take the slag over. Mind control. Doesn't matter if it's organics or _us_ , 'cause he did it to at least one human on Earth," Cliffjumper said, voice low and sharp as he spoke, and then glanced to Bombshell, who was frowning.

"And how does he... use them?" Bombshell asked, not _quite_ sighing because it was obvious he already knew - or suspected he did, because he was perfectly capable of drawing parallels with the Autobots here, even if this wasn't an _Autobot_. It was _him_. If... from another, completely upside down reality.

Cliffjumper snorted, almost violently enough for it to have sounded like something from his engine as he waved the rod at Bombshell. At least nothing _spilled_ from it. They weren't starving, but rations were tight enough as it was to not waste any to tempers.

"What'd ya _think_?" Cliffjumper almost immediately grunted and shook his helm, glancing away and then back before he continued, "... I mean, you can probably figure it out, but if ya want to know... he takes great fraggin' delight in it. Like a pig in a... er, like he's newly manufactured and been given free reign to do whatever the slag he wants without anyone checkin' up on him."

Quite similar to the delight the Autobots... _Prime_ had expressed in talking about and actually torturing Rumble - the way the purple, rust-heap wannabe had talked about _him_ , his alternate, enjoying it. It made Cliffjumper want to throw something, storm back into Iacon so he could yell at the fragger some more because _how could he_!? 

Not that that'd do any good except get him killed... or maybe worse.

"He's cruel. Pretty much delights in not just takin' away someone's control, but _humiliating_ 'em too."

The silence stretched for a minute, into a klik, and Cliffjumper couldn't say he was _surprised_ , because well. Who wouldn't be unsettled by being told slag like this? He'd been unsettled since Prime had uttered his first word to him, even if he'd _tried_ to ignore it at first, sure that he was just... taking things wrongly.

That nothing was wrong (when _everything_ was).

"Thank you."

Helm whipping up, Cliffjumper found himself staring again, optics going from wide to narrow, his field flickering fitfully as incredulity dripped off the two words he repeated from Bombshell.

"' _Thank you_ '? Why're you... what the slag's _that_ for sorta thing to _say_?" he couldn't even muster suspiciousness and even less anger, he was so flabbergasted.

"You're the one having to say them, and you obviously considered what the impact of what you were going to say would have on _me_ , Cliffjumper," Bombshell said, untangling his hands to sweep one of them through the air between them, his voice still low and even, even dropping a little further, taking on a sub-sonic rumble, "it's quite _unnerving_ , I give you, but I don't have to _live it_ , watching friends and allies, _and_ enemies, twisted around into being mirror images that, despite the _differences_ are just similar enough you still recognise them."

Cliffjumper couldn't _quite_ help the grimace, or the urge to just get up and leave. He was fragging well not going to sit here and have Bombshell be _understanding_. He didn't get far enough to make a solid decision, however, as Bombshell started talking again and since it wasn't more of what the situation might be for _him_ , Cliffjumper was briefly distracted.

"I'm not in possession of the same power as my alternate. I don't have those... cerebro-shells. What I _can_ do is administer a particularly fast-acting sedative, which, prior to the war and the times I've used it in combat when the opportunity presented itself, I hadn't used more than even a handful of times in my career."

Despite the urge to inch away at that reveal, Cliffjumper stayed put; he wasn't stupid, and regardless of this being common knowledge among the Decepticons, _he_ didn't know and it was a reasonable show of trust from Bombshell to tell him. He didn't even need to _believe_ the mech about how many times he'd used it out of a combat-related situation or not, though he _did_.

"That's... uh. Less _questionable_ than your alternate's, at any rate..." pausing, Cliffjumper snorted, "and, ya know, even if you _did_ have the same ability, you'd probably be more trustworthy with them." He didn't feel comfortable saying that, but well, following the general trend of what he'd seen so far, it would probably be true.

Bombshell chuckled and shook his helm.

"Perhaps, though I am relieved I do not. Such power over others isn't something others should have to trust _anyone_ with... and not something I would want, either way. What I possess now is more than enough, and I need to take care even with that," Bombshell said, gesturing in the air before he stood up, some faint amusement radiating from him, "though it looks like I should leave. Sideswipe is looking for you."

"Sideswipe..?" looking around, Cliffjumper caught sight of the former Seeker crossing the floor to the back where he and Bombshell were and remembered he'd said he'd just finish his rod and Sideswipe could go on and he'd meet up with him...

" _There_ you are. Still stuck here?" Sideswipe said as he cocked his helm and looked down at Cliffjumper, an upper optic ridge raised - Bombshell's passing got a wave before he focused back on the minibot, who cleared his vents.

"Uh, yeah. Sorry, I forgot... and I got trapped," tilting his helm at Bombshell's back, Cliffjumper shrugged and downed the last of his rod.

"I saw. You actually _talk to him_?" Sideswipe asked, his expression and tone a blend of understanding and incredulity - when Cliffjumper had said Megatron had indicated he should talk to Bombshell, he'd made noises about Megatron having said the same thing to him back when he joined.

"... kinda? We talked about his alternate." Cliffjumper wasn't about to say anything about the bits Bombshell clearly had managed to get from him _about him_ and not about the alternate in question, though. Sideswipe could possibly guess, anyway.

"Huh. Really? Whatever," Sideswipe said with a shrug and maybe he _couldn't_ (and Cliffjumper shouldn't probably feel as relieved at that as he _did_ ), and then gestured towards the door.

"You ready?"

"Yeah, I am," then, with a sigh, Cliffjumper waved his hand in the air, "just lemme get another rod, I guess." If he didn't actually _try_ to get used to that after taste, he'd just continue to fuel less than he actually needed, which was just slagging _stupid_. He especially didn't need to run low during a battle.

"Knock yourself out. You're not a micromaster, so I was wondering how you could need less than your alternate."

"Watch it!" Cliffjumper huffed and and scowled, taking Sideswipe's smirk with a roll of his optics and neither of them mentioned that what Sideswipe had said could've been construed as _concern_. They hardly knew each other well enough to put attention on things like _that_.

As they left the rec room, Cliffjumper just hoped that he wouldn't end up talking to Bombshell in private again. He just had the faint feeling that if he did, he might end up saying more than he intended to say, again.

Or just Bombshell being Bombshell and managing to get things out of what he was saying that he didn't want the mech to pick up on, even if it... well. Was his _job_ to do so, and that he might even, maybe, need it.

He'd just make sure they didn't end up like today again, that was all there was to it.


	2. Alternates and Other Things Cliffjumper Doesn't Like

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bombshell is once again quietly insistent about having a talk with Cliffjumper, this time not about himself and his own alternate, but rather a few other people. At least one of which Cliffjumper really, really doesn't want to talk about.
> 
> (Talked about here is Megatron, Starscream, Sideswipe and Optimus Prime.)

**Polyhex, Darkmount. War Room. A day after his first talk with Bombshell.**

Staring down at the empty War Room from the upper level after having extricated himself from the debriefing, Cliffjumper supposed it could be worse. Of course, it could also have gone far, far _better_. The only saving grace of this battle was that Prime _hadn't_ been there.

Scrubbing a hand over his faceplate, Cliffjumper clonked his helm against the railing and then rested his arms over it, chin on his crossed arms.

"Apparently more than a fraggin' week before another battle is way too much to ask for," Cliffjumper muttered and then scowled at the way even that echoed around the room, even if it quickly got unintelligible. He'd hoped that a bit of time to get used to stuff would've been enough to _not_ make a complete glitch out of himself on the battlefield next time combat happened, but apparently he either needed more _time_ , or something else entirely.

He wasn't sure what that 'something else' should be, however.

At least no one - even less _Megatron_ \- had had to get in way of a shot meant for _him_. Sideswipe had had to yank him out of the way more than once, however, and he'd aimed his guns wrong at least three times. Fragging embarrassing and a _complete hazard_. 

No one had _blamed him_ though, which, really was even _worse_.

Megatron and Starscream had been making understanding noises and giving him even _more_ understanding looks, and that was just blasted unbearable _and_ creepy. Unsettling. Sideswipe had shrugged, saying he was nominally used to having to be aware of yanking Cliffjumper out of where he shouldn't be - even if the colour had been navy and steelgray back then, instead of red and black.

Cliffjumper had grimaced at the comparison to his alternate, and he grimaced again as he was reminded of it. He was a sludge-dripping, blasted sight better than his _alternate_!

The deliberately loud steps from behind still had him stiffening, and twisting around to see who it was his grumbling greeting trailed off into silence - it wasn't Sideswipe, which he'd _expected_ it to be.

It was Bombshell.

Crystal-blue optics meeting his own, Cliffjumper stared for a moment and finally managed a nod before he turned back around.

He'd rather hoped he wouldn't have to talk to Bombshell again, but apparently that wasn't about to be. Well, he _could_ leave, or tell Bombshell to frag off. Maybe that---

"Are you all right?"

The question derailed Cliffjumper's building intention to send Bombshell away, and after a moment of staring at the dark holo display in the center of the War Room, he closed his mouth and reset his vocaliser.

" _Fine_ ," Cliffjumper snapped out, aware of how similar that was to their first talk, but he _was_. Really! This wasn't like the silly energon thing, but he hadn't been injured and no one _else_ had been from his mess-ups either, so it was _fine_.

"I'm glad, Cliffjumper," Bombshell said quietly, and knowing _him_ (knowing _any_ of these Decepticons) he _was_ , at that, "it's a relief neither you nor many others had to avail themselves of the medical facilities today. That doesn't happen often." Bombshell came up to lean against the railing beside him, and Cliffjumper glowered at the dark holo display, the words spilling out it a vicious, muted mutter before he could stop them.

"No thanks to _me_." Then he froze and snapped his mouth closed. Frag it all to the blasted _pit_.

"You hesitated." It wasn't a question, and Cliffjumper merely scowled and gave a huff, not deigning to answer that any more than he already _had_ , especially since Bombshell already knew he'd frozen up, not _listened_...

"Do you know why?" Bombshell's voice was so quiet, so even, and so _patient_ , Cliffjumper gripped the railing hard but still pushed himself away from it and whirled on Bombshell.

" _Why_? 'Cause I'm a fraggin' _idiot_ , is why!" Engine revving, Cliffjumper slumped back on the railing with all the force he could muster, just to hear the loud _clang_ echo through the shadowed and otherwise empty room. He wasn't really sure _why_ he was so frustrated, but he said he'd stay and help, which meant he should be _helping_ , not _getting in the way_. Or adding to the potential dangers of the battlefield.

Bombshell was quiet for a few moments, but considering Bombshell hadn't immediately responded at times during their _first_ conversation, Cliffjumper didn't relax. He wasn't going to assume this meant Bombshell was going to _leave_ and let him stew in peace.

And of course he wasn't allowed to do that.

"I doubt that's it. You must clearly have had at least _one_ reason," Bombshell paused, and Cliffjumper caught him tilting his helm out of the edge of his vision, "though that reason _might_ be... 'idiotic', or it might not."

Cliffjumper snorted, a reluctant smile briefly dragged across his lips at the way Bombshell rephrased his own words at him and somehow managed to not make it sound mocking. Making a decision, since he seemed bound to end up talking to Bombshell _either way_ , and wasn't yet angry enough to just storm out, Cliffjumper shook his helm.

"You know as well as _I do_ , that if you're actin' stupid on the battlefield, that's fraggin' idiotic," grunting, he flexed his hand around the railing and rubbed his thumb over the metal, "... colours throw me off, but that's kinda _helpin'_ keeping things straight. Voices. They're just so blasted _similar_ \---" cutting off with a growl, Cliffjumper graced the holo display on the bottom floor with another glare.

"So there's _not_ any difference between... say, Starscream and the one from your reality?" Bombshell sounded offhand as he chose his named mech, but Cliffjumper _knew_ it wasn't any damn _randomly chosen_ designation, and turned his helm to glare at Bombshell. Bombshell, in turn, merely cocked his helm, and if he was teasing or amused, there was no way to tell.

After another moment longer of giving Bombshell the stinkeye, the minibot relented.

"They're different _enough_ , but all the slaggin' differences are doing when I ain't payin' full attention is highlight how _similar_ they are. And I ain't gonna take orders from _Starscream_! Or Megatron..." Cliffjumper said, a growl underlying the words while his hand tightened on the railing again.

"But this isn't _that_ Starscream," Bombshell pointed out quietly, and Cliffjumper kicked the railing, sending a ringing note of abused metal throughout the room.

"I fraggin' well _know that_! It's _impossible_ not to know it! He's so blasted---" pausing in trying to find the words he wanted, Cliffjumper threw a hand out, waving it around, and when he couldn't find them, let it drop to dangle over the railing, "... doesn't slaggin' matter. But just listening to the voice while we were fighting..." Huffing, he shrugged and waved his hand again.

"He's all _concern_ and fraggin' _earnestness_ and it's blasted _weird_!" Cliffjumper finally burst out and kicked the railing again. Starscream _listened_ to advice as much as he gave it; always seemed open for input or correction from what he'd seen so far and was so scarily effusive towards Megatron Cliffjumper felt as if his tanks would clog up.

The more terrifying thing was that he was _sincere_. If there'd been even a shred of _sarcasm_ in there, _somewhere_ , it'd be... easier. But there was no sarcasm. It (almost) overshadowed the ringing similarities still echoing in Starscream's voice in a way he hadn't even realised he was strung tight listening for them.

Which was what had happened during the battle, besides the more unaware reaction to having more or less familiar frames on the _wrong side_ of the battlefield.

Bombshell hummed beside him and Cliffjumper jerked upright, having forgotten the mech was there. As if to make up for it, he glared around the room, but of course no one else had come in. Unfortunately he couldn't check the shadows that were _underneath_ the walkway they stood on, but it was okay, he told himself.

"I think you need to be at least _somewhat_ patient, Cliffjumper. Both with yourself, the situation and you getting used to it all. But _until then_... try to focus on what he's _saying_ and perhaps _how_ rather than the quality of his voice? _Think on it_ , at least," Bombshell spoke through any attempt from Cliffjumper to interject with his frustration, calm but with the same sort of inexorable momentum a bulldozer had, and Cliffjumper scowled when Bombshell was done, growling.

But while he wasn't sure he'd be able to do as suggested, and he didn't really think there was any _time_ for being _patient_ , he couldn't really come up with a good protest.

"Not gonna be that _easy_ ," he finally said, pushing away from the railing to lean back against it and cross his arms over his chestplating, _well aware_ that that sounded more sulky than like a decisive protest.

"Which is why you should attempt patience and take an extra vent every time you feel yourself reacting to his _voice_ instead of what he's actually _saying_." Patience and some faint amusement coloured Bombshell's rumbling baritone, and the only reason Cliffjumper _didn't_ say something snarky and only rolled his optics was thanks to that 'attempt' Bombshell stuck in there, and the fact that there'd been no sarcasm there.

Bombshell wasn't making fun of him, merely suggesting that he _try_.

"Yeah, yeah. Fine. I'll _try_."

"And what about Megatron?"

Unable to stop the slight twitch before he firmed his shoulders, Cliffjumper huffed.

"What _about_ Megatron?" They were nearing subjects he _really_ didn't want to talk about. Not because of who Megatron _was_ , really (only _partly_ because of it), but because who he _reminded him_ of. Bombshell tilted his helm, eyeing him quietly for a moment.

"Starscream, no matter what unpleasant dealings you've had with his alternate in your own reality, is still not the largest threat looming in your mind, is he? That---"

"Tell that to everybody he _killed_ , Bombshell! He killed _me_!" Cliffjumper yelled as he whirled on the mech, feeling sudden rage boil up which had nothing to do with being _here and now_ , and everything to do with where he'd _come from_. Only when the discrepancy of what he was saying and the fact that he was very much alive registered did Cliffjumper huff, let his engine rev once or twice to bleed off some of the sharp energy that was wound tight around him and fall back against the railing.

" _Almost_ killed me. As good as," Cliffjumper muttered and glowered at the floor; Bombshell was quiet, hand resting on the railing close by his elbow, but not _on him_. Cliffjumper would've shaken the appendage off if he had, so that was just as well.

"Don't mean throughout the fraggin' _war_ either. He'd gotten all... _powered up_ and power mad and was killing everything he could, and we had to _stop him_." There was a flicker of an awareness that his reaction to Starscream now might, just _might_ have to do with this and the burning curl of anger in his voice. 

Might.

"But you survived..." a pause, and Cliffjumper stiffened, opened his mouth to warn against any dribble of _psycho-whatever_ that was surely about to spew from Bombshell's vocaliser, "and yet you're guarding against talking about Megatron more than Starscream, or how you otherwise reacted on the battlefield," Bombshell continued as if he couldn't clearly see Cliffjumper about to say something, and the minibot wasn't sure if he was annoyed at Bombshell turning it back to _that_ or relieved he _hadn't_ said anything about the probable origin of his reactions to Starscream.

"What if I don't wanna talk about it?" Cliffjumper said instead, raising his helm to frown at Bombshell.

"We don't _have to_ , Cliffjumper. But it might help your peace of mind if we do."

His _peace of mind_ , like slag! Giving a huff at that and turning away from Bombshell's quiet, steady optics, Cliffjumper scowled again.

"Fine." Grumbling wordlessly, and not so quietly, Cliffjumper shifted on his feet and tapped a rhythm out on the floor with his left front bumper. 

"Starscream's just _weird_ ," Cliffjumper darted a glare up and sideways at Bombshell to ensure there weren't any interruptions forthcoming about how his reactions hardly had _all_ to do with Starscream simply being _weird_ , but Bombshell didn't look like he'd been about to say anything. He wasn't sure if that was a relief or just annoying.

"Megatron's... _wrong_ ," grimacing, Cliffjumper shrugged, "he's so much like _Prime_ and then just... goes _beyond_ that?" It was a question when it shouldn't be. Prime (not the purple knock-off, obviously) _cared_ of course, but he was pretty... distant, as well. Megatron? Megatron _wasn't_. Megatron cared in a very _personal way_ , and that was obvious even from just a week here.

"He's so much like Prime and yet _not_ and then there's _that_ \--- that!" Voice rising, Cliffjumper cut his vocaliser before he descended into growling or said something he didn't want to, because with Megatron came his _counterpart_ , and that just made Cliffjumper want to throw things.

"Despite you calling him 'wrong', you seem to have less... issues with him than with Starscream," Bombshell pointed out, helm tilted. Cliffjumper snorted and shrugged.

"If that's what ya wanna call it. I still can't fraggin' believe I'm working alongside _Megatron_ of all mechs, even if it's _this one_." But nothing else seemed possible. What was he supposed to do, go hide in the bombed out wilderness or something? Forget it, he wouldn't last an _orn_. And not because there wouldn't be energon or whatever.

He just wouldn't be able to stand the thought of those _mockeries_ of Autobots rampaging across Cybertron while he didn't do anything to _help stop them_. They were even _more_ wrong than the flip of everything shown in Megatron. Iacon had made him feel sick. 

Sick and angry.

"And yet you are... does it feel better with Sideswipe here?"

That wasn't, at all, the question he'd thought Bombshell would ask, and Cliffjumper looked up, optics flickering. Bombshell twitched his shoulders in a tiny shrug, then tilted his helm in quiet anticipation of an answer.

" _Feel better_?" Cliffjumper repeated, voice sharp with his exasperation. Bombshell let it pass without remark, still waiting, and Cliffjumper snorted.

"No, it fraggin' well doesn't. This thing isn't something that's solved by something like _that_. But it's... familiar? Kind of?" frowning, Cliffjumper shrugged and stared at the wall for a moment, "he's... really similar? Which is _odd_. I mean, he ain't the _same_ , but..." But it was close enough it did feel somewhat safer.

Somewhat safer, until Sideswipe did something and Cliffjumper was _sharply reminded_ of the fact that this _wasn't_ the same mech from his reality.

"He's similar enough, like you said. An anchor. What's _different_?" Bombshell leaned forward slightly, optics brightened... and then straightened up, clearing his vocaliser, "I apologise. My curiosity got the better of me."

"Nah," shrugging, Cliffjumper shook his helm, aware that it was probably rude to talk about someone like this without their knowledge, but the differences he _had_ spotted was gnawing at him, "I'm okay with it. 'Cause ya know... I mean, I know we kinda fight in the same way? Intensity, or whatever. Makes some of you uncomfortable. But he's..."

He paused mostly to try and get the words he wanted, but if he paused too long he'd not continue because it still didn't feel exactly _right_ to talk about it.

"... I just try to get it over with. Fighting, and all. I might like my weapons, but that's 'cause they're _effective_ and I _hate_ those fraggers, but he's... he seems to _enjoy it_. The pain and all," Cliffjumper muttered, glancing from the wall to Bombshell and then away, "and it's slaggin' _creepy_!" 

Creepy wasn't _half of it_ , really, but it would do. It was a stark reminder of where Sideswipe had _come from_ and that it still, apparently, coloured him. Despite him having said that he'd seen Prime's philosophy was warped and that he was more out after himself...

That was when Cliffjumper realised that that didn't _necessarily_ mean Sideswipe had any issues with _how_ the Autobots were doing things. He still seemed like a mostly okay guy, so that was a relief, but that realisation was still _deeply fragging unsettling_. At least Megatron wouldn't let him stay if he wasn't _mostly_ all right, would he?

... He couldn't _believe_ he was banking on _Megatron's_ ability to judge someone's character!

"Sideswipe has some... rough edges left, yes. He's far better than he _was_ , however. It's all right, Cliffjumper," Bombshell said, tilting his helm in a smile that curled the edges of his EM field. Cliffjumper wasn't _wholly_ reassured, but it was better than _nothing_.

Bombshell was still looking at him, and Cliffjumper, aware of the one thing they hadn't talked about yet, the thing he'd _really rather not_ talk about, shifted off the railing at the same time as Bombshell spoke.

"Do you need me to _ask you_ about it, or can you bring it up yourself? Or is this when you choose to leave?" Bombshell laying it out like that had him freezing half a step away and turning back around, frustration welling up.

"Do I _have to_ talk about it? It ain't gonna tell ya anything _interesting_!"

"Maybe it won't." 

The quiet statement had Cliffjumper feeling like he'd _already_ said more than he intended and he ended up scowling, jerkily crossing his arms over his chestplates... but not continuing the process of leaving the War Room. Not yet anyway.

"You don't _have to_ , but I'm here to listen, Cliffjumper. It's not hard to figure out that Optimus Prime would, _understandably_ , be far more unsettling than _any_ of us here in Polyhex could be."

Including Megatron and Starscream.

Growling, Cliffjumper rubbed a hand over his faceplate in frustration, firmly enough the noise cut into his audio receptors and he managed to give himself some scrapes that would have to wait for self-repair to take care of it. Or have to be buffed out whenever he could be bothered, whichever came first.

Abruptly, Cliffjumper straightened up and stomped across the walkway, but the closed door needed to be keyed open and if he did _that_ in _this state_ he'd destroy the mechanism.

He punched the wall beside it instead, engine roaring.

"... he considers torture and execution... and torturous execution, _entertainment_ , Bombshell," Cliffjumper finally ground out after staring at the closed door, no thoughts completely connecting in his processor but the _laughter_ that had echoed through the room after the Prime had shot him.

"He does."

Confirmation, because it wasn't as if Bombshell didn't _know that_. It'd be impossible for _anyone_ not to know that.

"Prime doesn't fraggin' _do that_ ," Cliffjumper said, spitting out each word like they were sharp enough to hurt his mouth. Even if _this one_ obviously _did_ do 'that'. 

"He doesn't _execute or torture_ prisoners of war, he doesn't go on a slagging _conquering rampage_ across Cybertron and he wouldn't _laugh_ about moral or ethical treatment of prisoners!" Voice rising until he was yelling, Cliffjumper didn't punch the wall again by an act of sheer will – and by locking his joints into place, the extra energy searing through his frame and collecting with pressuring tension around his joints until he practically _shook_ with it.

He almost staggered when he unlocked his joints, letting the ex-vent he'd been holding in out, hot waste air nearly steaming around him.

"He doesn't actually do that, Cliffjumper," Bombshell said quietly, lacing his hands together and meeting Cliffjumper's wild, bright optics as he whirled around, "take another vent, get back into proper cycle, please."

Bombshell stared at him, Cliffjumper opening his mouth, vocaliser empty of all the angry words tearing around in his processor, and finally followed Bombshell's suggestion. What was the mech even _about_!? He _did_ do that he'd _see_ \---

"The Optimus Prime from _your_ reality doesn't, Cliffjumper. And that mech is still _there_ ," shaking his helm, Bombshell pushed away from the railing and crossed the walkway, stopping in front of Cliffjumper and reaching out, slowly, to lay a hand on his shoulder, "just because you are _here_ and he is _there_ and the Prime _here_ does things fit for the Megatron of your home reality and maybe even worse, doesn't _disappear_ the one _you_ know."

Staring up at Bombshell with a scowl, Cliffjumper was on his way to push the mech away when the words caught his hand, stilling it before he'd laid his hand on red and black metal.

Then he dropped it to clatter against his thigh.

"That doesn't fraggin'---" growling, hand tightening into a fist and then relaxing, Cliffjumper almost thought (hoped) Bombshell would finish the sentence for him, but he said nothing and he finally huffed, "make any-slaggin'-thing rusted _better_."

Because Prime, regardless of being _another version_ was still _Prime_ , and it was infuriating and terrifying to see that familiar frame (even with colours changed as they were) do the things he did, that _almost_ similar voice say what it was saying...

"Unfortunately it doesn't work that way, no," Bombshell said with a shake of his helm and his optics glowing with a tiny, sympathetic smile mostly heard through his voice, "but it's no less the _truth_. None of us, even less _Optimus Prime_ , is a _replacement_ for the people and versions _you know_ from where you come from, Cliffjumper. They're all still there, unchanged by _our_ existence... the only one who's _not_ is _you_."

At that, Cliffjumper stared, and then rolled his optics while a snort of laughter slipped out, _almost_ cutting short from his surprise at hearing it.

"Yeah, _lucky me_." 

He was still angry; it burned through him like improperly processed energon, leaving enough radioactivity behind to sear lines, but for all that he... did feel better.

Sort of.

"I need a shooting range," Cliffjumper said and stepped away from Bombshell, his hand falling off the mini's shoulder easily. His brief wave was met with a nod and while Cliffjumper _knew_ he should probably thank Bombshell and he even opened his mouth... he quickly closed it again, shook his helm and stomped out of the War Room.


	3. The 'But' in the Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After being so determined that he'd ever talk to Bombshell willingly, here Cliffjumper was *any way*. 
> 
> But a strange little 'but' in his recollection of his and Sideswipe's hunt after Grimlock might warrant it. If Bombshell just could *stop digging* after *other* things!

**Darkmount, Polyhex. Shortly after the "dinobot chase" of Dungeons and Dinobots. Around a month after the previous talk with Bombshell.**

He had been able to keep out of Bombshell's way for an orn by now. Sure, it'd included some literal avoiding and maybe a _little_ hiding when he thought the mech was coming for _him_ , but nothing _excessive_. Well, beyond that strange group therapy thing, but that was different, he supposed. He hadn't been the sole focus and had left as soon as possible. He just didn't felt like another "little" discussion like that second one had been.

And yet, here he was now, _trying to find_ Bombshell.

Cliffjumper just wasn't sure who else to _ask_ about this, and while Starscream was a scientist, he was firstly busy at the moment with seeing to fixing the changes Wheeljack had done to his artificial intelligence matrix that the dinocons (and dinobots) ran on and secondly, Cliffjumper wasn't sure he'd be of much help. Thirdly, Cliffjumper wasn't sure he actually felt like he _wanted_ to bring this up to Starscream. Or Megatron.

So, Bombshell. He still couldn't really _believe it_ , but since the issue seemed to be a processor/memory thing, maybe the... ugh, psychologist _could_ help? Not that he actually wanted it, but he also wasn't comfortable with that vague, niggling sense of 'but' that kept hanging at the end of his (and Sideswipe's) report regarding their little hunt after Grimlock.

He'd asked Sideswipe about it, if only in a roundabout way, but Sideswipe seemed sure of his (their) story; they'd captured Slugfest and Goryu, met Huffer, gotten the tip about Grimlock, went after him and had had a run-in with Rodimus and Blurr in the collapsed bunker where they'd tracked Grimlock to...

And then...

No, that was it. At least according to Sideswipe and himself and everything _but_ the but that was hanging around at the end there as Cliffjumper's processor kept insisting it should.

Scrubbing the back of his helm and giving a good scowl to the door he stood in front of, Cliffjumper didn't like it _at all_. Even less than he liked going willingly to Bombshell.

::Cliffjumper? The door is unlocked, you don't need to wait out there,:: Bombshell's soothing baritone drifted across the comm. and Cliffjumper huffed but briefly rested his hand on the opening mechanism... and then still hesitated for a moment after the door had opened, but when Bombshell looked up at him he finally straightened his shoulders and walked inside.

Looking around the room was more habit to take stock of his surroundings (and the exits) than being curious, at least at first.

The room was large enough to be able to allow at least a few mechs of Megatron's size to walk around and sit comfortably, with a half-open area to the right that was more of an actual office than the "seating area" look the rest had. 

Open and airy, with a delicate cluster of crystal growth timidly trying to cover up one short wall, there was still evidence of the necessities of war; each of the large windows had blast covers evident near the ceiling, and the windows had been externally reinforced with a lattice-work of metal.

It was a reminder that _this_ version of Darkmount hadn't started out or been built as a fortress, but rather been _re-purposed_ into one. Cliffjumper realised he actually had no idea what Darkmount had been before the war, here. He realised that he even was a bit _curious_ to know, and pushed the thought away, having to rein in the urge to let out a disgruntled mutter.

"I didn't think I was going to see you again," Bombshell said, his optics tilted in a glowing smile that _somehow_ managed to not make Cliffjumper want to turn on his bumpers and stomp out. Instead he just snorted and slumped down in the only seat that was, without needing to be adjusted, low enough to the ground he didn't need to jump _up_ to sit down.

"Yeah, well, that'd be _two_ of us." Because he _had_ planned to not have another talk with Bombshell, Primus slag it.

At least Bombshell didn't chuckle or anything else as he left his spot by the windows to sit down, cocking his helm.

"So what brings you here today? Chasing the dinobots seems to have gone well." While it wasn't a question, it could just as well have _been one_ , because that was obviously what was meant. Crossing his arms over his chestplating, Cliffjumper glanced out at the barely-lit ruins of Polyhex outside and the dark, star-studded sky above and then looked back at Bombshell, optics darkening.

"Do ya know if Blurr or Rodimus can alter memories or something like that?" It was, frankly, the only thing he could _think of_ that would make _sense_. But by the way Bombshell stared at him and then slowly shook his helm, Cliffjumper's hope for an easy explanation slowly dropped down a chasm.

"While we don't know _everything_ about the Autobots, we do make note of anything _unusual_ , and neither of them have, as far as we know, displayed any such ability or knowledge. How so? You didn't mention anything like that in the report."

"'Cause Sideswipe doesn't seem to have the same fraggin' _issue_ ," scowling, Cliffjumper threw his hands out, "and I'm not even sure it _is_ a rusted issue, 'cause everything lines up as it should and it's not like I'd say something _different_ happened..."

Bombshell's optics were narrowed now, and he leaned forward slightly as Cliffjumper trailed off.

"But?"

"That's just _it_! There's a sludge-sucking, oil-dripping, exhaust-smellin' _but_ at the end and I _don't slagging know why_!" throwing himself back against the seat, Cliffjumper dropped an arm over his faceplate, scowling into the shadows created, "'cause if nothing else happened, there shouldn't _be_ a blasted 'but' there, but there _is_!"

It was quiet for a few moments until Bombshell shifted in his seat, and Cliffjumper shifted his arm enough to get a peek - though all Bombshell had done with sit back in his chair rubbing his chin.

"So what happened?"

"You read the report, so your guess is as good as _mine_ , Bombshell," Cliffjumper said with a huff, but Bombshell shook his helm and let out a static sigh.

"Yes, Cliffjumper, I've read the report, but I want you to retell the events to me, here and now. That's simply not the same as reading the report, either for the first time or again."

"Why'd that help ya figure out if something's _odd_?" He probably shouldn't be so very _difficult_ given that _he_ had, after all, been the one to come willingly to Bombshell this time. Well 'willingly', but for all intents and purposes, it kind of had been. He simply couldn't help it though, because it just seemed... useless.

"You retelling with your own words, for me, is going to tell me more than the formal report will. Your choice of words and _how you say them_ can't precisely come across in a text-based report. You don't have to start from the _beginning_ if you don't feel like that's necessary, at least not to start with. How about after you and Sideswipe left Huffer?"

Bombshell was patient as always, helm tilted slightly as he spread his hands, palms up, while he talked, the rhythm somehow managing to leech out some of the sharp agitation clinging to Cliffjumper. How the frag did the mech _do that_ , and he better _not_ know he was---

Who was he kidding, of _course_ Bombshell knew it. He was always so slagging keen on people _relaxing_.

With a huff, Cliffjumper grimaced.

" _Fine_. Huffer. He pointed us in the direction Grimlock had gone and we went after him." This part was easy; there was no doubt at all that they'd crossed into the Rad Zone while looking for the overgrown lizard (and he still couldn't fragging _believe_ that _Starscream_ had apparently originally created him - it made him wonder how Grimlock had acted before Wheeljack got a hold of him), weaving between the abandoned bunkers and hillocks in that area.

"I thought Sideswipe was losin' his nerve or something, the way he started to drag his fragging feet the further we went, despite that we'd just taken care of Goryu," rolling his optics, Cliffjumper snorted and continued at Bombshell's questioning look, "the bunker we ended up at that Grimlock apparently had decided to _nest in_ or what the slag ever was apparently the same one the ambush he left the Autobots for had happened at."

And wasn't that just a huge honking, _suspicious_ coincidence?

Not that hunting after Grimlock had anything to do with _that_ , but _still_. It just seemed very... pat, especially when he'd finally shaken the full truth out of the former Seeker.

"And then he continued to be a rusted _protoform_ about going further, blabbering about _corpses_ as if neither of us haven't seen any before! I was about to pop him one and shake him until he explained himself when he finally did say something," Cliffjumper said with a huff, still sort of annoyed it'd taken Sideswipe so much _time_ and wishy-washy behaviour before he'd explained. He wasn't some easily scared lilleth or something!

"So what was it?"

"Guess he never told you guys, huh? Apparently the... uh... my _alternate_ ," he couldn't help the scowl that slipped out then, "accidentally ended up _gettin' in the way_ during that ambush – at first it sounded like he was part of it and Sideswipe said he'd killed him or whatever, but apparently he wasn't _actually_ there as part of the ambush or anything. So he was behaving all guilty-like and, I dunno, behave like an overprotective glitch about me perhaps seein' my own... er, my alternate's corpse!"

Tossing his arms up in the air, Cliffjumper snorted. As if seeing his own _corpse_ would be that _scary_ \- though something shifted a little inside, a sideways slide that whispered close to _unease_ and Cliffjumper amended that okay, _maybe_ it'd be uncanny, but hey.

It was a corpse, and _he_ was alive. They were _not_ the same person, and a corpse couldn't do anything to him.

There was another tickle down his circuits, like an aborted sensation of dread cooling them, though Cliffjumper completely forgot about it when Bombshell shifted.

"You didn't think it'd be unpleasant to basically see yourself dead, at all?"

"I've seen _far creepier things_ than something like _that_ , Bombshell," Cliffjumper rolled his optics again in a glowing arc towards the floor, "and I wasn't slagging sparked _yesterday_."

Bombshell nodded and then tilted his helm, his optics narrowing in a thoughtful way Cliffjumper didn't like at all.

"You're far less okay with the idea of your alternate _at all_ , dead or not, aren't you?"

Grimacing at that, Cliffjumper couldn't help the deepening of the expression into a scowl.

"Why fragging _shouldn't I_? He liked torture and executions as _entertainment_! And who knows what else considerin' he was one of Prime's _closest_!" hands fisting at his sides, Cliffjumper was about to spit out a few of the curses dancing around in his processor regarding all that when Bombshell spoke again.

"Undoubtedly that would unsettle you, considering what _you_ think of that... thankfully, I'd say," Bombshell smiled, optics brightening with it and Cliffjumper snorted and shook his helm, but was somewhat amused (and a little pleased), "but is that _all_ you're upset about?"

"... why do you _always_ fraggin' have to _dig_? Can't that _be all_? 'Sides, this ain't what I came here for," Cliffjumper grumbled, slumping back against his seat.

"It _could be_ , but given your reply, I doubt it _is_ , and helping people deal with things like this, whether or not they're part of what they came to talk to me about, is what I'm here for, Cliffjumper.” 

"Fraggin' _pit_ ," swearing, Cliffjumper wasn't sure if he was more annoyed that Bombshell was _right_ or that he couldn't convincingly lie about it, "it's just--- I can't slagging _believe_ someone who rusted _tortured people for entertainment_ supposedly was _forgivin'_ , naïve and _friendly_!"

Sideswipe hadn't used 'naïve', but in Cliffjumper's opinion that and 'trusting' was basically the same, war or not. And he didn't _want_ to be slagging charitable to his _alternate_. The thought that he might be more abrasive than an alternate who had apparently enjoyed torture just fragged him right off.

Bombshell stared at Cliffjumper quietly for a few moments before he shook his helm.

"Ah. Cliffjumper... Just because he was an actual person with some more agreeable personality traits in comparison to what you glimpsed from your short exposure to the other Autobots here, doesn't actually take away the fact that he was also _cruel_ ," Bombshell tilted his helm, optics steady both in gaze and glow, "you said it yourself; he liked to torture people. Even more so, for _entertainment_ , not even information, even if torture does not give reliable information. He was a loyal mech who obviously was easygoing and trustworthy, given his position with Prime..."

Cliffjumper squirmed in his seat and scowled. He didn't like hearing about all that slag, it was just... It was dumb, but he suddenly realised it made him feel like he wasn't measuring up, despite that his alternate had, objectively, been worse than he was in other ways.

But dumb or not, it was why he'd picked up a proper sniper rifle to add to his usual weapons, since his alternate had been a sniper and he wasn't going to let his _slagging alternate_ be better at something than he was.

Cliffjumper wasn't sure if he was annoyed or smug that he was turning out to be better at this whole sniping business than he ever thought he would be.

"But, as I said... he was also cruel. Cruel and ruthless and tended to play with people on the battlefield, inflicting expertly aimed shots that _injured_ instead of killed instantly, because he _could_. And could, even with his target staggering around and trying to hide, kill them. It was always quite clear he didn't _just_ do it to try and bring one of us out to help and get a second kill out of it, but because it was funny to him," Bombshell caught Cliffjumper's optics and help his gaze, "you, on the other hand? Cliffjumper, your _temper_ and blunt personality might be more difficult for some people to deal with, but you help when you can, you wouldn't torture under any circumstances I feel pretty confident to say, and---"

"Fine, fine, I _get it_!" Cliffjumper huffed, tossing his hands up and shaking his helm - he didn't need to hear Bombshell _praise him_ or some such slag, Primus slag it all, he was just---

"And, more vicious on the battlefield or not than what we're used to our allies being, you do not inflict pain or injury for fun," Bombshell continued as if the mini across him hadn't interrupted and now looked fit to punch him, "your differing personalities does not take away the fact that your alternate had a few vicious, unethical and terrible traits the Autobots and Prime merely encouraged and exacerbated, Cliffjumper. You are not alike, and we're all glad for _that_."

Bombshell smiled, his optics brightening, and let Cliffjumper have a silently grumbling moment of breaking his gaze and look away, crossing his arms over his chestplates and scowl at the view outside the windows.

So maybe all that was true and he needed to just get over it - it still didn't sit well with him that his alternate hadn't been a _complete_ monster. Just... most of one.

And then Cliffjumper grimaced and rolled his optics. 'Just most of one' - slag, he was an idiot. That was more than enough!

"So what happened then?" Bombshell asked after little over a klik had gone by quietly, and Cliffjumper huffed as he frowned at the the sparsely lit up and ruined skyline of Polyhex outside. Right, back to what he was actually here for...

"Well, we got inside to look for Grimlock... place was kinda creepy... And I guess Huffer must've contacted his _buddies_ 'cause we met Rodimus and Blurr inside and then..." frowning, Cliffjumper tilted his helm back to stare at the ceiling instead, following the ordered pattern of seams where the plates met each other, "... and then, we... fought? And Grimlock turned up and we fought a bit with _him_ , all of us, and then he fell down a chasm and then we parted up and left."

... Scowling, Cliffjumper turned that sentence over again. It was _right_ , it was _exactly_ as he remembered, but _why the frag_ would they just have let Blurr and Rodimus _go_? 

They'd been a bit roughened up by the fight with Grimlock, sure, but not enough he'd have _any slagging reason_ to just let those two _go_ , without any sort of fight.

"Go over that last bit again for me, Cliffjumper," Bombshell said, now leaned forward in his seat and Cliffjumper grimaced.

"We fought Grimlock and then we lost him and... I mean, I wouldn't have fragging executed 'em right then and there, that's not it, but we just _parted ways and left_? I wouldn't--- We could _all_ walk just fine, but I guess Grimlock got the drop on us." That wasn't right either, his processor insisted, but he _still_ couldn't figure out what was _wrong_ with _anything_ of what he'd said.

It all read just _fine_ , except for when it _didn't_.

"Hm. If you want, I'm pretty sure Starscream could assist me with a processor scan, because there _are_ some notable pauses and, as you say, implicit 'buts' in there. Especially in the... vagueness of the whole encounter, but the issue might simply be with prolonged exposure to the Rad Zone." Bombshell shook his helm slowly, optics narrowed in a concerned frown, his voice thoughtful. 

"You _are_ still relatively recently arrived, and while I don't know the status of your Cybertron---"

"Mostly repaired, and I was offline for fifteen fraggin' years and then went back to Earth pretty soon after that," Cliffjumper interjected, grimacing over the thought of his years offline.

"As you say. So your Cybertron has been restored to some normal level of function and you've spent the most recent time on a planet not as unstable as _our_ Cybertron is... and even mechs here can be negatively affected by the Rad Zone for time to time, especially if they stumble into concentrated spots of radiation. While it's not _necessarily_ that, my educated guess _would_ suggest such a conclusion."

That... Frowning at his feet, Cliffjumper thought it over. It sounded perfectly possible.

"Yeah, guess that's it."

And yet, as he stood up and, after a moment of hesitation, opened his mouth and then closed it again and just nodding to Bombshell, Cliffjumper _still_ felt like there was a 'but' clinging to that. Frustrated, he pushed it away for now. He'd look at it closer again later, but at the moment, he was pretty fragging _done_ with this idiocy.

"If you need it again, my door is always open, Cliffjumper," Bombshell called from behind, and Cliffjumper snorted.

"I think the _group therapy session_ I couldn't avoid while tryin' to avoid you was more than enough to tide me over, Bombshell."

Hopefully there wouldn't be any more _weirdness_ than this. Well, except for the fact that there'd already been some pretty large amount of _weirdness_ so far... Shaking his helm, Cliffjumper let the door close behind him. He _guessed_ Bombshell wasn't so bad, but that didn't mean he wanted to talk to the mech about his 'issues' more than necessary.


	4. Earth Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Humans are complicated and annoying. Especially when they can shoot nukes at you, and Cliffjumper can't believe they've destroyed as much of Earth in this reality as they have. Not to talk about a few humans in *particular*...
> 
> Or Crasher.
> 
> Cliffjumper could've gone a vorn without Bombshell bringing up his reaction to Crasher, thanks.

**The new command center/rebuilt bridge of the _Nemesis_ , now the Decepticons' Earth base. Two days after Eye in the Sky.**

He'd said he was mostly surprised the humans where he came from _hadn't_ done something like demolish and sink the whole of California and not that he was just surprised or shocked in general that the state was gone, but really.

The whole of slagging California!

Earth on the whole was _tiny_ compared to Cybertron, yes, but that didn't mean it didn't feel reasonably large when you were on the surface... and the United States wasn't a small country. So having the whole of California gone was pretty jarring. What was rather _worse_ , however, was that---

"I don't think you will be able to divine the Autobots' location or next target of attack by staring at that globe, Cliffjumper," Bombshell said quietly, and Cliffjumper didn't need more than to hear the first few words to tell that the blasted mech was _smiling_.

"Haha, very funny, Bombshell. Not like Sideswipe didn't already say the same thing," Cliffjumper said, huffing as he aimed his annoyance at the slowly spinning hologram of Earth, arms crossed over his chestplates. It wasn't just California, he'd noticed rather soon after actually _looking_ closer at the map. This Earth looked quite a bit more... ragged than the one he was more familiar with.

Which wasn't very _odd_ , given what the humans seemed capable of and what had, apparently, been attacking Earth in place of the cybertronians.

"Would you be willing to elaborate, then?" Bombshell asked, amusement still colouring his tone as he came up to the display, circling around it to stand opposite of Cliffjumper and then turned to look up at the hologram as well.

"Eh..." grumbling quietly while Bombshell reached out to trace the outlines of the continents just above the hologram itself, Cliffjumper shook his helm, "mostly the fact that they slagging shot us out of the sky. And that rusted _GODS_ , too. Like, it ain't like the humans were completely helpless where I'm from..."

Not at all, really. Unbidden, the image of a strawberry blonde woman clad in little more than a 'suit' made of intricate patterns of silver-coloured metal came into his processor, and, quickly after that, detached Autobots helms. 

"They armed themselves even more as time went by, but they sure couldn't shoot the sort of missile that we just got aimed at us!" throwing his arms up, Cliffjumper scowled at the spinning hologram again, "don't even rightly know why it _bothers me_ 'cause I _was_ kinda expecting that they be worse, but then bein' out among 'em and they're mostly like the humans where I'm from, but then there's all... _this_."

At that, he pointed at the US as it spun by, basically stabbing his finger _into_ the projection and disrupting it as he circled the empty spot where California should be, and then let his finger drift to the jagged archipelago that was making up a large part of the northern Brazilian coast (at least what Cliffjumper thought of as Brazil, he'd have to check if the country _was still_ Brazil here...), then, as the globe spun, to where Italy had been neatly split in half, it's central part blown away or sunk deep enough that the southern end was a huge island in the Mediterranean.

Then there was Japan (or... well, what he, again, thought of as Japan), though that didn't seem to have _lost_ anything; there was rather more land bared around the Japanese islands than he distinctly remembered... and that wasn't all, really. There'd probably be _even more_ differences if he checked a map that gave a closer view.

"You'll have to show me the Earth you know," Bombshell said as he eyed the map, open curiosity in his voice before he looked at Cliffjumper through the display, "now... is the issue that you're upset these humans still want to kill us, not that they're _worse_ , or that they already have enough of an arsenal to do us substantial damage already and don't have to work up to it?"

"How _isn't_ it a fragging issue that they wanna kill us?" growling, Cliffjumper waved a hand at the projection, "I hope it hasn't escaped you, but we're _stuck_ here, and if the humans all want to kill us that makes things harder. And I'm slagging _tired_ of trying to save people who want to see me dead, too."

Really, really tired.

Cliffjumper looked up and into Bombshell's optics, and then huffed and looked away again. 

So _maybe_ it wasn't just that. But so what? Maybe he was a _little_ put out that the humans did have enough of an arsenal to effectively fight them at least _somewhat_. It'd be one thing if it'd only be aimed at the Dec--- _Autobots_ and not _them_ , but given what they'd heard of at least the US' government already... that seemed like it wouldn't happen.

"It's quite impossible to miss, since we broke down what could be saved of the _Nemesis_ and moved it," Bombshell said dryly, tilting his helm, "and while it's somewhat of a shock that they have come much further than we thought, technology-wise, that should merely be cause for relief that they can defend themselves."

"And kill us."

"Yes, unless we are careful, kill us. There's no need to worry about that before anyone actively acts against us, I don't believe the bomb could be fairly considered---"

" _How_?" Cliffjumper snapped and glared, engine revving briefly, "'cause none of us had made _any_ sort of hostile move against Earth, Bombshell. Not even the Autobots, and _they sent a slaggin' nuke at us_!" 

"Cliffjumper, please calm down. Break the vent cycle and take a deeper vent. I am right here and you do not need to yell at me." It wasn't until Bombshell said that that Cliffjumper realised he'd actually ended up yelling, and while he just grimaced at first, he did do as asked. Not that it really made him any less _angry_ , but it'd make him less likely to yell when he opened his mouth again.

Well, probably, anyway.

"But yes, you _are_ , unfortunately correct. But that was only one country, and as I understand it, the Earth is divided up into many independent areas, correct?" Bombshell waited until Cliffjumper nodded, no matter how reluctantly, and then continued, "which means that, undoubtedly, there aren't just _individuals_ but also _countries_ who ought to at least not see us as a threat, and perhaps even as _help_."

"Guess so," shaking his helm, Cliffjumper stared with narrowed optics up at the rotating display of the Earth, "but we didn't land in any of _those_ places, did we? We landed _here_ , and considering the slaggin' fake Autobots are here, too, it ain't like we could _move_... and that's if we find Astrotrain and he's all right."

Which he hopefully _was_ , besides the fact that it would be good if they got their whole force back - they were still looking for the rest.

"No, but we're not alone, either. We have a few friends here," Bombshell said with a smile, and Cliffjumper couldn't help his snort.

"Yeah, _them_."

"You don't trust them?" 

Looking up at Bombshell, Cliffjumper ended up shrugging, dragging a hand down his faceplates.

"No. Yes. I don't slaggin' _know_! The boys seem okay, I guess, but something with Arkeville's just... It ain't even anything _concrete_ , so yeah, I _know_ it ain't a rational suspicion, thanks!" huffing, Cliffjumper pretended not to see Bombshell gently shaking his helm with the air of patient - maybe even fond - exasperation.

"I didn't say anything, Cliffjumper. Perhaps this is a connection to your reality and the Arkeville there?"

"That's the _thing_ , I ain't seen or heard 'bout the man _at all_ , and it _still_..." trailing off, Cliffjumper waved a hand unable to express what felt off. Because that's what it was. Just a vague feeling of something being _off_ , of that he _should_ find Arkeville suspicious, but there frankly was _no reason_ to.

It was utterly infuriating and not a little frustrating.

"What about Sephie? Since you've said nothing about her yet."

Sephie.

Cliffjumper felt himself frown at the mention of her name, another wiggling flare of unease blooming along his wiring. 

Sephie was friendly, overly excitable when it came to technology in general and _them_ in particular, smart and by all accounts there was nothing wrong with her _either_.

"... Dunno. She seems okay. It's just..."

"Cliffjumper, does this have to do with how you reacted to Crasher?"

"Wh--- _what_?" Helm snapping up, Cliffjumper stared, floored enough by what seemed like a completely unconnected question that his feelings about _that_ fiasco didn't bleed through enough for him to get defensive. Yet, anyway.

"I'm merely asking since I heard Will retell it. He seemed to have found it amusing, and I'm wondering if it will affect any---"

" _What_?! No!" scowling, Cliffjumper threw his hands up in the air and then rubbed the back of his neck, feeling his optics brighten despite everything, "I apologised for that and it _won't_. And whatever's with Sephie it ain't got anything to do with _Crasher_ , either. Can we _not_ fraggin' talk about this?" he didn't mean to groan, but it slipped out anyway as he looked away from Bombshell's quiet, steady stare and he _really_ didn't want to talk about it.

It was fragging embarrassing enough how the whole thing had gone down and that was _more than enough_ about that.

Of course, Bombshell wasn't about to let it stay there.

Instead he finally came around the display to lay a hand on Cliffjumper's arm, which was shaken off with a scowl and Bombshell nodded, but didn't back off otherwise.

"I'm merely asking to ensure it doesn't weigh unduly on _you_ and doesn't affect your ability to work with Crasher, Cliffjumper. If it does, I'm sure we can work it out."

Why did Bombshell always have to be so slagging _reasonable_ and _understanding_ and _patient_? Letting out a groan that wanted to become a growl, Cliffjumper scrubbed his faceplates again.

"I don't have a problem with Crasher, all right! It's just _embarrassing_ and it doesn't slagging _matter_ \---"

"Cliffjumper, please. If you explain, this will be easier."

Revving his engine, Cliffjumper gave Bombshell a dirty stare and scowled.

"I've never in my life met someone built like her before all right?" shaking his helm, Cliffjumper crossed his arms over his chestplates, "I _know_ they were around before the war, but they weren't many, and they only recently started appearin' again, after Cybertron got fixed up."

He stopped there, shifting on his feet. That was only the partial explanation and not actually the embarrassing part. Bombshell waited, quiet, while Cliffjumper's gaze wandered around and he couldn't quite stand still.

"And I guess I sorta... forgot all about that and seein' her up close made me think of human women more than one of _us_ and that's just rusted _stupid_! It ain't like the different design means _slag_ , but I still..." grimacing, Cliffjumper felt his hands want to twitch along the same curvy gesture he'd done when he'd had his stupid glitch in front of Crasher.

Squirming, his field twitched about him and his optics brightened again.

"You were startled because of unfamiliarity borne of circumstance and rarity and more recent exposure to humans has connected her general look to that of a human female rather than a cybertronian? I don't see how that's anything to be _embarrassed about_ , Cliffjumper. I was frankly worried about something far more complex than _that_ ," Bombshell said with a quiet smile in his voice, and Cliffjumper huffed, trying to ignore his blushing.

"Easy for _you_ to fragging say." Rolling his optics, Cliffjumper wasn't going to admit that the simple dismissal (in a gentle way), plus Crasher's earlier acceptance of his apology - he'd managed to say _something_ similar then, and she'd thankfully been amused rather than offended - was doing a lot to make him feel less flustered about the whole thing.

Not that there weren't similarities between humans and cybertronians, but thinking of one of them as more of a human than a cybertronian simply because of some vague similarities in how the bodies were formed was just _ridiculous_.

"Perhaps, but you're probably on edge about all the differences and the rare similarity from your own world, so it wouldn't surprise me if you're a bit high-strung when it comes to things right now, Cliffjumper. Which isn't strange or incomprehensible in the least. I would suggest you at least _try_ to talk about these things more... and not just with me." Bombshell just tilted his helm in a smile that coloured his voice, and didn't in any way indicate that most (all) of these talks so far had been more or less unwilling from Cliffjumper's end.

"Maybe." With a shrug, Cliffjumper turned to look up at the hologram again, at least _trying_ to not sound as if he was dismissing the whole thing out of hand. Even if he sort of was.

"Think about it, at least," Bombshell said, and Cliffjumper sighed.

"Yeah. I will." He looked up so he could give Bombshell a nod, because he _would_ at least _think_ about it. He just wasn't sure if Sideswipe was up to listening to this sorta slag, or---

"A question, before I stop harassing you for now?"

It was mostly the amusement in Bombshell's voice that made Cliffjumper turn around with his optics narrowed, tilting his helm.

"How do you feel about working with Starscream now?"

He couldn't help it and grimaced, as much for the question itself, who it was about, and Bombshell's quiet amusement that was nonetheless serious curiosity. Then he sighed again, static tickling his tongue.

"... he's okay. _It's_ okay. Not like I wasn't gonna handle it, ya know," Cliffjumper said with a roll of his optics. He knew very well this Starscream wasn't the _other_ one... And okay, he still felt uncomfortable sometimes (a lot), but that didn't mean he couldn't _work with him_. Starscream was a good mech.

Almost disgustingly so.

"Never said you couldn't, Cliffjumper, but your well-being is my concern, and you have _reason_ to be unsettled, even if they are not the same."

"Yeah, yeah. Go talk to someone else about their feelings for once, why don't you?" Waving a hand in the air, Cliffjumper also shot a smile at Bombshell, who chuckled as he gave a nod and left.


	5. Ringing a Bell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cliffjumper finds out Sephie's full name, and wants Bombshell to keep an optic on her for that reason.

**Bombshell's office in the Decepticon bunker on Earth, post Blitzwing Bop.**

Cliffjumper stomped in with more force than was strictly necessary, and he didn't look particularly happy either. Not that he _was_ , in fact he was _very unhappy_ \---

"If you're concerned about the humans and things being added to our systems, however well-meaning and accidental, both Starscream and Arkeville have had further talks with all three of them" Bombshell said quietly, looking up from the datapad he'd been looking over, helm tilted.

"That _ain't_ what wanted to talk about. I don't fraggin' care at all. It ain't like Will could've known it was a bad idea, and it didn't _seem like one_. Even if it was slagging creepy." Well, that the O-pod had been integrated with Blitzwing's systems wasn't really creepy - it was to be expected.

Cliffjumper was just muddling that and Arkeville's comment about it being similar with coral being turned into human bone together. Because _that_ was just creepy.

"Sit down, Cliffjumper. Please," Bombshell waved a hand at seats available opposite of him, and didn't continue until Cliffjumper had sat down. Even if that meant pointedly staring at the pacing minibot and quirking an upper optic ridge until he did as asked.

"So what _did_ you rush in here for?"

"I want ya to keep an optic... or two, or your whole slaggin' therapist _whatever_ , on Sephie," Cliffjumper said, not caring about the sharp tone to his words. He'd been unpleasantly surprised and he didn't like it _at all_. Of course, he'd had that niggling feeling about Sephie from the start, but the reality was still coldly shocking.

Bombshell, perhaps understandably since he didn't know what Cliffjumper did, stared at him, faceplate writ large with his incredulous confusion.

"Sephie? The same young woman who very enthusiastically talks about technology and admires us to a degree that might warrant some careful inquiries in the future? The one that harbours, for all intents and purposes, merely a star-struck desire to be similar to us, something the good doctor gets an earful of as well when his implants come into use? The young woman who has been helping us for months now?"

"Don't make fun of me, Bombshell. Yeah, _that_ , Sephie," Cliffjumper snapped, continuing before Bombshell could try and placate him, even if he _hadn't_ actually been making fun of him, merely recounting facts that were all _very true_. They didn't _help_ , though.

"Sephie. _Josephine Beller_."

Bombshell tilted his helm again, optics dimming and a noise drifted up from the mech's mask-covered lower face. Slow, kind of humming. He clearly picked up on that Cliffjumper _meant something_ with that, though he, obviously, couldn't know what it was.

"You're going to have to elaborate, Cliffjumper. I only know what you've told me of your reality, and you never mentioned anything regarding Sephie beyond some unformed concern. Please sit up straight and take a deeper vent before that, however. You're far too tense."

Glowering at Bombshell, Cliffjumper nonetheless did as asked - even if it just made him want to growl and hunch up _further_. He wasn't _in the mood_ for Bombshell's insistence of relaxation. Still, though, having done as asked he... well, he didn't feel any _better_ , not really, but, fine. He was _marginally_ less tense.

Frag this mech.

"In my reality, she goes... went? by Josie. Ain't got a clue how she was prior to getting caught up in Shockwave's attack on the oil drilling platform, but I'm gonna take a stab and guess it wasn't what she was _after_ ," Cliffjumper said and ignored Bombshell's half-choked little noise when he mentioned Shockwave.

"She got injured in that attack and bein' a fraggin' genius or something, made herself some assistive tech in a suit to help her move again."

"... While that's certainly _unfortunate_ , I don't quite understand the vitriol, Cliffjumper," Bombshell murmured and met the mini's bright, livid optics with the calm blue of his own.

"That's 'cause I ain't slaggin' _done_ , Bombshell! She didn't just get herself _up and going_ , she gave herself the ability to sling electricity around and mess with circuits and other tech, started calling herself Circuit Breaker... and she ended up hating mechanoids," optics narrowing, Cliffjumper let his engine rev with the growl in his vocaliser, "not just the blasted 'Cons who were responsible for the attack that got her injured, but _all of us_. And _we_ ended up caught in her fire the _most_. She's a glitching menace!"

Sure, as he'd found out she'd also helped in the fight against Unicron, but that didn't really fix anything. At least she seemed to either have kept out of the way when they got back on Earth, or Blackrock was managing to keep her out of the way. Maybe he'd even managed to help her get _better_ again.

Cliffjumper, despite the anger slamming around inside, hoped that was the case. Both for _her_ sake and even more so for the Autobots on Earth in his home reality.

Here and now, however...

"Cliffjumper, Sephie hasn't displayed any signs of mental instability so far, so I doubt anything similar to that terrible development that her alternate ended up with will happen." Bombshell shook his helm, leaning forward and reaching an arm out, but Cliffjumper snorted and shook his helm as well, though far more sharply.

"You ain't an expert on human mental states, and so far, _nothing_ like what happened Josie has happened to Sephie. Can ya _actually_ , without slagging lying, tell me right here and now that she _couldn't_ end up shaken enough by something that she broke?" snarling, Cliffjumper glared until Bombshell finally sighed and slowly shook his helm.

"... No. I can't. But I can tell you that, given how she has handled being involved with us and tangling with the Autobots so far, there seems to be a minimal chance that any trauma would be terrible enough that she couldn't, with the proper support, work through it without... glitching, as it were."

"Bombshell---"

"No, Cliffjumper. Please turn your optics offline and change your vent cycle, or go over to the wall and punch it, I don't mind, but _listen_ ," Bombshell stared, optics narrow, until Cliffjumper's tight fists relaxed and he sat up straight again, even if there was still trembling tension in his shoulders, "while I _can_ keep an optic on Sephie if something happens, I will do the same for Will and Rick, because they will need support and attention in trauma as well. We have three young humans and an older one present, and while I certainly hope nothing happens that would be traumatising, _if it does_ , I will be there for all of them, and especially for whoever might have been hit the worst."

Intent, but calm cerulean met turbulent azure, but Cliffjumper refused to look away and just crossed his arms over his chestplates and finally Bombshell sighed.

"But I promise to pay attention to any possible signs of mental distress in response to events from Sephie, though given the differences between realities, I wouldn't imagine things to be happening the same."

"I doubt _mental illness_ and drastic responses to terrible events might be things that would necessarily _change_ , Bombshell," Cliffjumper said with a growl and stood up, and Bombshell, while he sighed, could hardly _disagree_. There were many things that were different between this reality and Cliffjumper's original one, but there were also some that were the same.

And, admittedly, such a thing as how one responds to trauma might not be a thing that would change even when other situations did, given that, changes or not, they were the same people. Different aspects come from different circumstances, but with the similarities Bombshell had noticed between Cliffjumper and the one they had known as Cliffjumper - Sideswipe had made similar comments - there was enough evidence to say things could stay the same as much as they could have _changed_.

"Are you all right, Cliffjumper?"

"No, but when _am I_?" with a snort and a wave of his hand, Cliffjumper left Bombshell's office even as Bombshell shook his helm and picked his datapad back up.

Hopefully what Cliffjumper feared to happen, wouldn't.

***  
 **Outside the Decepticon bunker, post Transhuman.**

Cliffjumper wasn't sure whether he should feel proud of himself for managing to deal with Sephie as he had, even if he'd needed Soundwave's push to apologise and offer her to work with them. Well, work with them in a more active sense than the three young humans had been already. Of course, there was also the fact that he felt rather _relieved_ she'd decided to 'work on her own'.

Starscream was still trying to convince her, he knew, and Ravage was pretty upset, but it wasn't like she'd stop _dropping by_ or stuff like that. She was perfectly capable – and probably intending – to come visit them as quite a few were capable of picking her up and zipping her back to the base if she needed the lift.

Leaning back against the rock hiding the metal underneath, Cliffjumper frowned at the dying sunlight, and still didn't feel particularly _relaxed_ about the whole thing. After all---

"There you are." Bombshell came through the doors before they'd fully slid aside, and Cliffjumper grunted, not quite able to still the twitch of his shoulders in time. Despite his insistence that Bombshell keep an optic on Sephie back then, he wasn't sure he wanted to talk about it _now_.

"Yeah."

"Do you still believe there's cause for worry?" Bombshell was looking at the sunset, not at _him_ , and Cliffjumper was grateful, because his grimace wasn't particularly flattering.

"Look, she _willingly_ subjected herself to _body-altering_ scrap by someone she didn't have a clue who he was, _especially_ after he revealed himself to be Cybertronian. He could've been an Autobot! She didn't have a clue what he'd do. She might not have turned into a rabid hate machine after Shockwave saved her or after any of the scrap she did to herself, but what _did_ she do? Get herself altered!" scrubbing his face, Cliffjumper growled into his hand, "I dunno, Bombshell. She's obviously not about to attack _us_ , and I'm slagging grateful for her help, but..."

He didn't look to Bombshell when the hand landed on his arm and squeezed, but Cliffjumper shifted his shoulders in an attempt at easing the tension in them.

"No, her actions have been somewhat... worrying given the reasons behind them, even if I can honestly say I doubt it will lead to any negative mental trauma. She has proven herself to be resilient, and you are obviously all right with working with her still... But that aside, are you all right?"

Not 'all right _with it_ ', because Bombshell could easily tell Cliffjumper wasn't. The question still got him a dirty side-long glare that had Bombshell tilting his helm in a smile. It was the first look Cliffjumper had given him so far, so that was a good sign

"No," Cliffjumper paused and rolled his optics, "maybe. Turned out better than it could have, after all. Still don't think it's slagging _okay_ and I don't trust that she _won't_ end up cracking at some point." Even if it didn't seem like she _would_ , given how things had played out. The whole bit of altering herself wasn't just creepy, but worrying, especially as she'd done it because on some level she thought all that technology was so much more cooler and 'better' than her default human state.

Besides _that_ though, the fact that she was firmly on their side _was_ a relief, but Cliffjumper wasn't sure to _trust that_. His natural wariness and war-enhanced suspicion (paranoia) simply wouldn't let him.

"I'm impressed, Cliffjumper."

Jerking around, Cliffjumper sputtered a little and stared at Bombshell, shaking his helm.

"What! Why for? What's _that_ got to do with _this_?" His optics were _absolutely not_ brighter than normal, not at all. Bombshell just chuckled and waved a hand between them.

"Everything, truly. You have, after all, not just managed to live here, but _adapt_ , even when things are continually thrown in your way. You'll have an impressive story to tell when you get home," Bombshell said and Cliffjumper snorted, because that had _totally_ also been a wink. He couldn't believe Bombshell had _winked_ at him.

"No one's gonna slagging _believe me_ , but yeah, I _guess_ ," Cliffjumper said smiled lopsidedly before he and Bombshell went inside, leaving the dying sunset and the darkening sky behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the long lapse!


	6. Unexpected Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cliffjumper stays.

**The room in Darkmount with Alpha Trion's stellar spanner, right as Nexus Prime leaves at the end of Reunification.**

Cliffjumper stared as the portal spluttered out and wondered what the _frag_ he had been thinking. Sure, he wouldn't have been going back immediately since Nexus had other things to do _first_ , but he wouldn't have been stuck _here_ with no conceivable way to get home either. And yet he had decided to _stay_. 

Well, too late to change anything now...

"Cliffjumper..." 

Turning around, Cliffjumper waved off the rest of whatever Starscream was going to say, shaking his helm. That didn't stop Mega--- _Galvatron_ from leaning forward slightly, even with Scavenger and Mixmaster still repairing him and Starscream hovering behind his seat, one hand reaching out and then stopping before he touched a now-purple shoulder.

Cliffjumper wasn't sure what that meant, if anything, but Galvatron drew his attention and he stopped, waiting for whatever the mech might say. It didn't stop him from snorting at the earnest look on that faceplate.

"Thank you, Cliffjumper. I... and all of us, are of course grateful you're _staying_ to help bring the Autobots to justice, but are you certain of this decision? We would all have understood if you'd have chosen to _go home_ , and surely your comrades in your own reality would need help to make sure the peace acquired lasts and the humans are safe," Galvatron said, leaning forward with the sort of intent concern for the object that was purely _Megatron_ , which was, really, rather reassuring. Obviously, whateverchanges had been made in his resurrection hadn't wiped the slate clean barring memories.

Snorting again, Cliffjumper rolled his optics.

"What the frag does it _matter_? Nexus already left, and none of ya know how to adjust these for _interdimensional_ travel. I'll be _fine_ , and I'd wager you guys need my help more than the _others_ do," optics narrowing as he caught both Starscream and Galvatron making ready to say _something_ , he quickly continued to make sure he wasn't stuck here any longer, "and either way, we've got other things to do, don't we? I'll go make sure we ain't got any Autobots still snooping around."

Turning around sharply, Cliffjumper stomped out before anyone got the chance to say anything, because he sure as slag didn't want to talk about this any longer. Not when he wasn't sure _why_ he hadn't gone with Nexus... Well, beyond the fact that he felt that it wasn't right to just _abandon_ the Decepticons. 

Chance to go home or not, they had further to go to peace than the situation in his original reality. Megatron and his rustbucket rabblerousers were _few_ , even if they were undoubtedly not the only ones Megatron could call on... But that required he could _reach them_ \---

"I don't wanna fraggin' _hear it_ ," Cliffjumper snapped before he even knew who it _was_ that was coming up behind him, but he was pretty sure he already _knew_ who it was...

"I know you've got bite, CJ, but you don't need to take a chunk out of me before I've so much as _poked you_ ," Sideswipe said, laughing as he trotted up beside the minibot and then slowed down into a leisurely amble. If Cliffjumper wasn't already focusing most of his jagged ball of _feelings_ at this lost chance and why he hadn't taken it, he'd have felt some vague annoyance over the seemingly exaggerated slow steps Sideswipe was taking.

Not that it was deliberate or anything, but still.

"Just gonna pre-empt any slag you feel like shooting. I'm pretty sure I didn't manage to cut things short back there," Cliffjumper said, shaking his helm as he waved a hand to indicate the corridor behind them and the mechs left behind beyond that. It took him a moment to recalibrate and what to say in response, because he hadn't expected it to be _Sideswipe_ that'd manage to catch him first...

"Given who they _are_ , I'm gonna say no, you didn't," Sideswipe paused, and Cliffjumper was more _aware of_ rather than explicitly _saw_ the sidelong glance thrown down at him, "but I can't say I blame 'em. We all know you jump in feet first, scrap, _I_ like to do that in most fights too, but..." trailing off, Sidesiwpe waved a hand in the air.

"But this is a bit _bigger_ than that, isn't it?"

Groaning, Cliffjumper threw a hard glance at the floor and rubbed the back of his helm. He had the dreadful feeling he'd be doing this _all day_ at this rate...

"Sideswipe, Primus slag it! _So what_ if it is, it's already over and done with now, ain't it?!" He really didn't feel like bringing up the fact that no, he wasn't sure it was the right decision, despite that he at the same time still felt like it wouldn't have been right to just leave.

"Come find me when you're done _patrolling_ and we'll take a drive." 

One large hand landed on his shoulder and then Sideswipe went down a corridor branching off before he could reply, and Cliffjumper stopped for a moment, staring after the green and grey mech for a quiet moment. He wasn't sure if he was surprised or not that Sideswipe had left it at that, but he was _grateful_ , and the smile felt good, especially with how sharp everything felt inside.

Shaking his helm, Cliffjumper started walking again. If he didn't, someone else might catch up to him or just walk past. 

Regardless of the tone Sideswipe had used that implied he didn't believe Cliffjumper was actually going to patrol, or do it to look for _Autobots_ , Cliffjumper was certainly intending to do the thing. If nothing else, it'd be hard for people to harass him while he was out driving, and he could _really_ do with that at the moment.

Except that didn't seem to be what he would be _allowed_ , because he'd hardly taken more than a few dozen steps before Crasher and Thundercracker approached from the other end of the corridor, and while Crasher seemed willing to let them all go with nothing more than a lopsided grin and a searching look, Thundercracker apparently decided to voice his concern more... directly.

"Cliffjumper! I heard what happened, are you all right?"

Opening his mouth and engaging his vocaliser, Cliffjumper was torn between annoyance and some pleasure at so many people _being concerned_. But since they were these Decepticons, 'being concerned', was usually expressed in a way that Cliffjumper, unfortunately, found frustrating a lot of the time. This would probably not be an exception, but he didn't even get the chance to _try_ and head off the whole thing like he had with Sideswipe - or even to reply, at all.

"And if you want to, I could take you flying. That always make me feel better," Thundercracker said with a smile and a squeeze to Cliffjumper's shoulder, and the mini smiled lopsidedly even as he ducked out and away from the hand, shaking his helm.

"Nah, that's, er, fine, Thundercracker. I'm just _fine_. Gotta go patrol." Jogging away, Cliffjumper huffed and _swear to fragging Primus_ he better not meet a single concerned mech more on his way out!

In the next two breems, however, Cliffjumper was forced to listen to "are you all right?, "are you sure about this?", "happy you're staying, but..." from an increasing number of Decepticons, and he was _never_ getting out of Darkmount like this, blast it! He _really_ thought he was stuck when the whole rusted corridor rang with an exaggeratedly-pronounced "OH EM GEE" and Ravage came bounding out from the elevator that had just stopped but then, of course, immediately left.

_Somehow_ , he managed to extract himself when the next elevator arrived, all the while reassuring Ravage that _yes_ , he was _perfectly fragging fine_.

Like this, he'd end up more on edge from all the _concern_ rather than his own confused decision to stay.

But it was _finally_ looking like he was getting somewhere, even if it took an extra few minutes and ducking away into branching corridors and taking a slightly longer route. After the deluge earlier, he didn't care if it took a bit longer as long as he---

"Cliffjumper."

"Gah!" Whirling around, he _almost_ ended up pulling out a gun, but didn't. How in the flying scrap had he missed Bombshell getting that close? Staring at the other, Cliffjumper reset his vocaliser and frowned. "Look, I---"

"Looks like you need some high grade," Bombshell said, tilting his helm and his voice in that smooth, lilting tone that implied a smile. The suggestion was startling enough Cliffjumper was left staring again and didn't put up a protest as Bombshell grasped a shoulder and turned him around.

"... wait, _what_?" He'd come up with a better formulated argument soon, but at the moment and with his processor was blanking, compounded by the insistent growl of tension around his spark chamber, that was the best he could do.

"A drink. I think it could help you relax."

Now, _that_ made sense given who was suggesting it, even if he so far hadn't heard Bombshell ever suggest _high grade_ as a way to calm down and relax. Shaking his helm, Cliffjumper didn't _quite_ attempt to brake them by digging his feet in.

"Can we do this _later_ , Bombshell? I'm..." growling, Cliffjumper scrubbed a hand over his faceplate and didn't even need Bombshell to interrupt him to do it to _himself_ , because he was out of words for argument as well as protest, unless he was going to start yelling incoherently.

"We're already here, and while I would usually not suggest or recommend a drink before going for any sort of drive, I'm making an exception," Bombshell said in that quiet, smooth rumble of his, and Cliffjumper let himself be gently pushed through the door. Beyond lay a small rec. room or bar he hadn't ever been to, and thankfully completely empty. Bombshell then passed him and veered off towards the three dispensers filled with rods but bypassed them and bent down to open a cupboard Cliffjumper hadn't noticed, and the mini let out a rough static sigh and gave in to the inevitable.

He ended up practically throwing himself into a seat after eyeing the room. It wasn't as if there was a shortage to choose among, and even with the room being empty and Darkmount and Polyhex being secure again, he _still_ chose seating that had a wall against his back and faced the door.

"Here you are."

The curved container Bombshell placed in front of him along with his own and the decanter itself, was filled with energon that seemed carbonated and was a violently, nearly _fluorescing_ acid green. Carefully picking it up, Cliffjumper wasn't sure what he thought about it. At least it did look (comparatively, anyway) nicer than the regular energon, having none of that... sharply yellow cast to it.

"You sure this is _safe_ to drink?" He wasn't actually questioning it since the regular energon hadn't killed him yet beyond having its blasted after-taste, but the _look_ of it still made him suspicious enough to ask. Even if he also aimed a lopsided smile at Bombshell, who was calmly sticking a straw into his own curved glass.

"I can drink it first if it would help you?"

It was an honest offer without the least bit of annoyance or mocking tingeing it, and Cliffjumper just snorted, bit back the wary, nearly reflexive 'yeah, _do that_ ' and took a sip.

He ended up coughing, valve at the back of his mouth clicking repeatedly and he really _should_ have anticipated the fizzling sensation of the bubbles, but he _hadn't_. He supposed this must be what soda and other carbonated drinks on Earth felt like, and he wasn't sure he _liked it_.

Moment after that, though, the sharply fresh rush of energy hit, a unique twist to what Cliffjumper was used to in regards to high grade, and he stopped hacking as he got his intake under control.

"... not too bad, I guess." Out of both stubbornness and curiosity to see if it would be better the second time, Cliffjumper took another swallow. The carbonation still felt _off_ , but the rush of the actual high-grade hitting his systems wasn't just _nice_ , it was certainly _welcome_. Cliffjumper was slumping a little in his seat before he noticed as joints and struts relaxed minutely.

"Just be careful about that, the carbonation will probably get you overcharged faster than you think," Bombshell said with a smile, and Cliffjumper snorted. Even if it _wouldn't_ , he wasn't about to down this thing in one fell swoop.

"I ain't a protoform, Bombshell. I know how to fraggin' drink," Cliffjumper said with a shake of his helm and a wave in the air, giving the container another narrow stare before he sipped again, slightly warily, in anticipation of the fizzling sensation on his tongue and at the back of his throat. "This ain't gonna make me slaggin' _babble_ , either, but it's not hard to figure out what ya want so why not just _get it over with_?"

Cliffjumper glared narrowly at Bombshell, who merely sipped from his own drink, and Cliffjumper was briefly _almost_ pulled into a smirk at the sight of the straw poking between one of the holes in Bombshell's mask.

"I assure you, I would have gotten there before you'd drunk too much of that," Bombshell nodded to Cliffjumper's glass and then looked back up at the minibot, "I wouldn't have this sort of talk with my patient thoroughly overcharged, as little as I would let someone out to drive or patrol if they were the same."

Rolling his optics, Cliffjumper shrugged and sat back in his seat, pulling the container with him. The curve fit neatly in his hand, which, he realised, meant it would fit badly in the hand of someone bigger than he was. He wasn't sure why that was amusing, but it sort of was.

"Are you satisfied with your decision, Cliffjumper?"

He'd already opened his mouth to snap what he'd given _every other mech_ who'd made noises of concern at him so far, but the different angle of the question threw him for a loop and for a moment Cliffjumper just stared. Again. Apparently this was to be the theme Bombshell was running with today.

Slumping back in his seat with a growl, Cliffjumper glared at his drink instead of Bombshell.

Was he?

_Really_?

"... guess so, yeah."

"You _guess so_?" Bombshell asked, and Cliffjumper caught him leaning forward in his seat, elbow on the table and radiating both concern and faint, scolding determination. It made him bristle.

"Yeah, 'cause I sure don't _regret it_! What the frag do you _want from me_ , Bombshell!?" It was a question he could just as well have lobbed at anyone having expressed concern so far, or even _at himself_ , really...

"Because, excepting the probably exceptional situation in which Starscream might manage to figure out how to create cross-dimensional travel and on the off-chance it wouldn't be prohibitively expensive energy-wise, you're now _stuck here_. By your own choice, no less, and I would rather you not consume yourself in frustration at some later point from being _unhappy_ with your decision." Bombshell spoke with the sort of inexorable tone that made interruptions impossible by the sheer force of the words alone, if not the tone or the raised quality, because he certainly hadn't raised his voice since he began talking.

"... _said_ I didn't regret it, didn't I?" Cliffjumper muttered, feeling distinctly like a sulky protoform of barely a year as he spoke, and he just _knew_ Bombshell wouldn't be satisfied with that answer.

Thing was, he wasn't sure _why_ he didn't regret it.

Sure, he wasn't _sure_ why he'd taken the decision, but his response to Nexus' question had been an answer that still didn't set aside that he didn't _regret it_. Tipping the glass around in his hand, Cliffjumper growled, vocaliser and engine both.

"I'd have regretted if I _went_ , 'cause you need more help than you've _got_ against the rusted slaggers that call themselves _Autobots_."

"And _your own_ don't need the very same assistance, Cliffjumper?" Bombshell asked, having put his drink aside and laced his hands together. Cliffjumper huffed and while he didn't raise his helm, he still glared at Bombshell from under the edge of his helm.

"Don't fragging pull _that_ into this! But if ya _got to slagging know_ , every single one that survived the slag with Unicron and everything after that? Even the ones that were all too happy we could sorta settle down properly when we thought all the 'Cons were good and well _trounced_? All of 'em would be ready and capable to pick up a weapon again if it was actually _needed_ , and they're far more... vicious than most of the lot here," shaking his helm, Cliffjumper dropped his scowl away from Bombshell to glare at his drink instead.

He could own up to the fact that he (and probably _all_ of the Autobots in his reality, was and would be seen as more ready and capable of combat violence than your average Decepticon here.

And that, really, was the _issue_ , wasn't it?

"Look... you guys..." with a sigh that was half a growl, Cliffjumper stalled long enough to not-wince as the bubbles hit his tongue and savour the slight, sharp rush through his systems as the initial charge hit even before anything had been fully processed, "and what you're against... it just wouldn't be fragging _right_ to leave. I'd still be far fragging happier where I belong and things being _familiar_ , but I'd regret _that_ more than _missing things_ while here, all right?"

Cliffjumper tried not to squirm, or blush, but it was difficult. Even more so when Bombshell let out a soft hum in response but didn't say anything. It wasn't like the Decepticons couldn't hold themselves against the Autobots, because they _could_. That srill didn't take away the very, very stark fact that most of them...

They just were... soft. Pacifists and weird and... It was enough to make him want to _wince_ , sometimes.

He missed Bee and Prime and everyone else that was still left of the _Ark_ crew (maybe even the Dinobots... no), but that didn't diminish the fact that if he'd _left now_ , even if Nexus could probably have used some assistance too, he'd not just have _regretted it_ , he'd have felt ashamed he'd taken the easy way out and left these guys to deal with... _this_.

The image of the Decepticon-decorated corridor that led into the smelting pool room and Prime's throne in front of it almost caused him to shudder, and Cliffjumper hid it by ducking his helm to take another swallow.

"You aren't responsible for us, Cliffjumper. Even if every single one of us are grateful you have chosen to stay, you, alone, aren't responsible," Bombshell said, and Cliffjumper whipped up straight, one million and at the same time not a single word crowding his vocaliser, but it didn't stop him from snarling.

"I---"

"You might be an Autobot, but you're just as much a Decepticon, here, and _you aren't responsible_ for what the Autobots _here_ have done, do, and will do, Cliffjumper. Not even for your alternate." Bombshell continued as if he hadn't spoken, glass in his hand and his optics gentle, intent.

"Your reasons are admirable and the concern likewise," Bombshell didn't pause as a strangled noise escaped the minibot, merely tilted his helm briefly, "but I hope you'll come to accept that _you aren't responsible_."

He was so angry - and probably embarrassed as well - he wasn't just unable to get anything out of his vocaliser, he was also _blushing_ , from optics out to EM field to the slight, tense rattle of his armour.

That wasn't---!

... Well, maybe a teensy, weensy bit.

Maybe.

"That still---" his vocaliser briefly glitched into static and he had to snappily reset it, "doesn't take away the _rest_ , and I'm---" swallowing the denial, Cliffjumper couldn't bring himself to _actually_ deny that that he didn't feel guilty or responsible for the Autobots. 

Because maybe he _did_ feel just a little responsible. 

Even if he by all accounts and actions and thoughts _was_ a _Decepticon_ (and wasn't that wince-inducing to him, still) here. Now that Bombshell had said it, even if he _wanted to_ \- and he really _did_ \- it was kind of impossible to deny it, and that made the angry, ashamed blush refuse to go away.

Bombshell sighed and lifted his glass again and Cliffjumper was relieved he neither reached out for him _nor_ said anything about _relaxing_ , just took a slow, considering sip of his drink.

"No, it doesn't. Like I said, those aren't just _admirable_ but even lasting decisions. You're not even _wrong_ in some... or perhaps even most, of your observations, really, and your help will be very welcome as a continued part of the campaign, which I'm sure Galvatron will reiterate. I'm just pointing out you _really_ aren't responsible for _them_ and _their_ actions, Cliffjumper. There's no need to feel guilty or take it on yourself."

Rubbing his faceplate and still unable to not feel embarrassingly _angry_ about the whole thing, Cliffjumper supposed it was a small consolation Bombshell agreed with most of his reasoning, even _with_ that other thing settling like unprocessed sludge along his internals.

He was aware Bombshell was looking at him, but he didn't really want to look up at him---

"Why don't you finish that and then go on your patrol? I should see if the Constructicons are finished with Galvatron's repairs," Bombshell said as he suddenly stood up, and Cliffjumper was startled enough (once again) to look up and stare.

"Uh... sure?" after a pause, a slightly wan but somewhat smug grin crossedover his faceplate, "not even Galvatron gets around it, huh?"

"A reformat, not to talk about _resurrection_ , is a serious issue and could have unforeseen affects on the psyche," Bombshell responded, surprisingly primly. There was, however, a small smile shortly thereafter. "Don't be afraid to empty the decanter, Cliffjumper."

Rolling his optics again, Cliffjumper eyed the nearly full decanter and wondered how much Bombshell thought he could _drink_. It wasn't as if this wasn't pure, either. In fact, Cliffjumper was pretty sure this was pretty slagging _good_ high grade. It sure was _tempting_ to drink it all down, regardless of what he'd planned on doing, but Cliffjumper did _not_ like the effects of a blackout overcharge. Or even just an overcharge beyond a pleasant buzz - he lost too much situational awareness and ability to act when properly overcharged and he hadn't ever liked that.

But, even with just allowing the _buzz_ he _did_ still have a bit left to go... the door opened while he was considering the decanter and he jerked upright without full thought of why he felt _embarrassed_ \---

"... Starscream?"

The jet twitched and stopped as if he felt guilty for having walked in and they stared at each other for a quiet moment before Starscream shifted on his feet and glanced to the side.

"I could, ahh--- I mean, I'm sorry for---"

"For Primus' sake, _get in here_ ," Cliffjumper snapped and glared until Starscream shuffled inside, half-guilty concern plastered over his pale faceplate, "you ain't _interrupting_ anything, 'cause I've basically met half of blasted Darkmount while trying to leave and I guess I'm not going anywhere for now so you can just... _sit_!"

Waving a hand at the seat Bombshell had vacated and when Starscream sat down and folded his hands together, Cliffjumper rolled his optics and pushed the decanter at him.

"I dunno if you're much for _drinking_ , but if you are, here. I ain't gonna drink all of this _alone_."

And then, for the first time, Starscream huffed and shook his helm, straightening up in a way that was familiar and Cliffjumper was pleased because at least the jet wasn't scrunched up like he was uncertain about... well, _everything_.

"I'm sure you can save the rest. I just wanted to ask if you---"

"Yes. Starscream." He probably shouldn't have snapped again, but he _did_. Mostly because the question starkly brought back what Bombshell had said and now he was slagging _blushing_ again, wasn't he? Starscream was staring either way, and Cliffjumper needed him _not_ to. "I'm fine. It's fine. You guys need me more and it wouldn't be _right_ to leave ya to those slaggers, okay?" Grinding it out through gritted teeth, Cliffjumper wasn't sure he liked the way the concern on Starscream's face just deepened into fretting - or the way his optics brightened and he was suddenly _reaching_ \---

"Am I _interrupting_ something?" Sideswipe said as he leaned against the doorway while both Starscream and Cliffjumper jerked back and Cliffjumper could _see_ Starscream was about to leave, so with a glare at Sideswipe he grabbed the nearest kibble and yanked.

Starscream went back down in the seat with a yelp and yanked his wing out of the grip with a huff and a glare that was too bright to be just a glare.

" _Sit the slag down_ , and _no_ you fraggin' well didn't," pausing, Cliffjumper gave them _both_ a glare, and this wasn't at all going as he had been planning when he left the stellar spanner room, "and since you're here, _too_ , do _you_ want a drink?" Gesturing at the decanter as he asked, Cliffjumper gave Starscream another glare and pushed his own glass over to the jet, who automatically closed his hand around it.

"Don't mind if I do," Sideswipe said with a chuckle, though he came over with two glasses instead of just one, and filled all three of them up before he took a sip. A slight shiver went along his shoulder armour. "Huh. This is good."

"If you say so," Cliffjumper said with another roll of his optics, but when Starscream took a swallow as well, he grinned faintly... and then aimed a glare at the door again, "and if there's anyone _else_ out there you can just _come in_ instead of lurking like a couple of demons."

Nothing happened for a moment, and then Ravage bounded in with a cheery hello and a wave. Soundwave rushed in right after him, half apologetically and half shamelessly grinning, Frenzy ambling in after them both.

This was _definitely not_ what he'd planned.

"If ya want some too, you're gonna have to start looking. I dunno if there's more where Bombshell got this from," Cliffjumper said and while Sideswipe got up with a grin and plucked out a few more containers of fizzy high grade to put on the bar by the rod dispensers, decided that _maybe_ , it didn't matter.

Maybe this was all right.

Especially as more and more Decepticons soon started to filter in, ending with Bombshell slipping in right before Galvatron. The latter didn't sit down, remaining standing by the wall, but he ended up with a drink in hand either way (courtesy of Starscream, so technically that was Cliffjumper's glass, still).

The previously empty bar was now full of chattering Decepticons, and Cliffjumper shook his helm as he swept his gaze around the room, grinning at Soundwave attempting to keep Ravage from drinking (any more) high grade.

Maybe this was okay, even if he was going to extinguish prematurely from trying to keep this weird, more or less pacifist group of pretend soldiers _alive_. And maybe someday he'd even believe Bombshell's claim that the Autobots weren't his responsibility.

"Hey! Trying to get me unconscious or something?" Ducking away from Sideswipe's attempt at refilling his glass as he pulled that towards him as well, Cliffjumper mock-growled and Sideswipe just grinned. Starscream even chuckled, a quiet, dry thing, and, as he straightened up and happened to look that way, he was pretty sure Galvatron was smiling as well.

Yeah, maybe he would end up believing it at some point, but for now this would do.


End file.
